


Timebomb

by Potatodim



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alba : The Saga, Alternate Universe - High School, Comedy, Internalized Homophobia, Luca is trying his best, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Romance, Underage Drinking, Vicent is also trying his best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potatodim/pseuds/Potatodim
Summary: High School through the eyes of Luca D'Angelo, a peniless kid who got into the school of his dreams and is trying to come to terms with the fact that there should be more to the life of a teenager than studies and college applications.
Relationships: Luca D'Angelo/Vicent Bonnet
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Detention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Biersaque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biersaque/gifts).



> Ooh boi, here we go.
> 
> This fic is part of an original work created by me and some friends. Luca D'Angelo is the only character that belongs entirely to me, so all of the works in this universe are written in his POV. Please, do not copy/repost to another website. All works written in this universe can be found under the tag of "Alba : The Saga"
> 
> It's also my first multi-chapter fic! Hooray! An attempt is being made, thank you very much.
> 
> As always, this is a gift to the marvelous Biersaque, my bestest friend and biggest supporter. I am so happy to be finally sharing this with you, and I really really hope you like this gift. I love to write about our stupid sons, and I love it even more because you're part of it.
> 
> Enjoy!

It all started with detention, because of course it did.

Later on, Luca D'Angelo would look back in retrospect and snicker at the cliche of it all; especially since Luca is not a detention type of guy. In fact, he's very much anti-detention, not in the sense that he's against it but in the sense that he wouldn't be caught dead doing anything to stain his school history. Which, okay, might as well just be a whole other cliche in and of itself.

Admittedly, Luca won't remember much of the actual day; he won't recall the weather or the subjects he studied, or what he had for lunch. It was a regular day at best. But the funny thing is, Alba lacks so much in the 'regular' department that it's enough to make Luca question if this is his real life at least five times a week. And by funny he means absurd, of course, because his past-12-year old self would never even consider Alba as anything less than the paramount of High School Agenda.

And God, wasn't that an intense chapter of his childhood...12 years old and wasting all of his wishful thinking to count the days for when he'd be old enough to apply for Alba's Mighty High School Scholarship, making starry eyes at the website (computer helpfully provided by the local library) as if they had all but invented the very concept of studying, and babbling around the house because _nonna, you won't believe the size of their library_ \-- and yeah okay maybe he wasn't the coolest of kids.

Maybe he was _that_ kid at recess. Maybe, he'd neglected the whole making friends spiel in favor of over-analyzing Alba's acceptance rate more often than he'd like to admit.

But it was okay, he'd thought. It's only temporary, because once he got the scholarship -- and goddamn it, he will get it -- this... _infatuation_ , if you will, would fade away and he'd be free to bask in the warmth of his achievement. So that makes it okay, somehow.

Right?

Right.

(Except it doesn't. He does get the scholarship, and to his surprise it's not as simple as it seems, 'cause once that bit is out of his mind, it leaves a gaping and painfully _there_ fissure in his being and instead of _basking in the warmth_ and lack of weight, his brain sees it as "free real state" somehow and fills it up with another little thing called Harvard. So. There's that.)

The point being, he did get the scholarship. He worked for it, and he got it, and it was amazing. Luca dedicated his entire pre-adolescence and countless sleepless nights shoving books down his throat, rearranging every habit he had and making room for new ones to adjust to a lifestyle that he thought would get him where he wanted to be. Luca traded the late-night cartoon watching for assigned readings, birthday parties for money to buy his own books, weekend playdates for extra homework hours, apple juice for coffee; the present for a future. And it worked.

Years later, pacing around the library for a solid 10 minutes before opening the email. Hands shaking, heart skipping four beats with every breath, breaking down the process into small steps of click click and scroll. Years later, all the sacrifice and hard work.

The "Accepted" that stared right back at him felt like justice and a prize, all the same. He nearly cried on the spot.

And then he did cry, at home; a tear or two, or thirty, spilling out as he told nonna the news. And it was the best day of his life, even if Luca had no one else to share it with.

So. Years later, all the sacrifice and hard work, all the waiting, all the gathering of bad habits; and it _worked_. He did it.

That day, he learned a lesson. In order to win big, you have to lose big.

And Alba was a big win, for sure. Amazing teachers, filled to the brim with opportunities, extra subjects that Luca had only dreamed of studying, an infinite amount of clubs, all that with an infrastructure _to die_ for. So different from his own world and the public middle-school he grew up on. So much more than he had expected it to be, and it might be his inner child-like wonder speaking, but truly there is _nothing_ regular about Alba. In fact, he'd dare say that the only regular thing in that place is himself; it sounds sadder than it really is, but please keep in mind that they have a Starbucks in the cafeteria, for God's sake.

It's not that he's any less excited to be here now that it's the start of his junior year, but things stop being so memorable once you fall into a routine. Luca doesn't get lost in the cafeteria anymore, he knows each and every section of the library -- _oh my God, the library_ \-- and he can walk these hallways blindfolded. Not an exaggeration; Luca paces around with his face stuffed in a book so much that this theory has been tested and confirmed many times.

So it's good that he started seeing most of his days as "regular", because it means that his regular is now what once was his biggest dream, and Luca would never take that for granted.

It's easy to deduce what kind of person Luca is at this point, and so when his Biology teacher told him that he could get some extra credit for tutoring the kids at detention, to no surprise, Luca had happily said yes.

It normally works like this: students in detention at Alba have to spend their time either doing homework, or reading. Sometimes they'll let "model" students volunteer to tutor them for extra credit. Luca's done that a couple of times before, and it's really not that bad. Alba's students are mostly well-behaved, and the really nasty ones usually have a last name powerful enough to grant them an easy way out of trouble.

That leaves the classroom where said detention takes place looking bleaker by the minute, silent and almost empty if it weren't for the three students scattered around seats. It pleases Luca to no end. 

_This is nice_ , he thought, noticing that all of them seemed content in reading by themselves. _I can have some 'me' time_ , he'll be sitting here for at least 45 minutes, after all. Maybe he can finish that biography he started reading last week.

Twenty minutes pass in blissful silence and D'Angelo is thoroughly enjoying himself, so of course, it doesn't last.

There's a boy in front of his table. Luca recognizes him from hallways and classrooms because the boy is very hard to miss. He's a tall, pale thing, with a lean face and badly tucked shirts, finished off with the kind of ginger hair that is never noticed last. He hasn't said a word yet and still manages to be louder than the soft rattle of the ceiling fan.

Luca doesn't know his name, but he knows his frame; not because he's observant but because everyone does. And they all know his last name as well.

The Bonnet's are best known for two things: their hair and their status. They're the subtle type of wealthy, people who've had big money in the family tree for centuries and don't feel the need to show it off. They're never on the tabloids and even if you don't know what they do, you know what they _are_ and you will know when they enter a room, their presence piercing like a bullet, leaving behind traces of murmured acknowledgments and fleeting stares. All to say that this boy doesn't have to be here, on a Tuesday afternoon, when he could very well snap his fingers and use his name as the weapon that it is.

Yet, here he is, grinning down at Luca like mischief itself, and he can't help but think that he's never seen anyone look so _out of place_ and like _they belong nowhere else_ at the same time. He's about to ask if he needs help with schoolwork when the boy finally speaks.

"'Sup."

Luca blinks up at him in acknowledgment and puts down the cereal bar he's been snacking on (read: paying no attention to amidst his reading) for the past 10 minutes, waiting for the question. It doesn't come. Instead:

"I feel like I haven't seen you around the school," he smiles, all teeth and trouble, leaning over and propping his elbows on Luca's table.

Oh?

Oh.

So that's how it is, then.

"What's your name, again?" the boy continues, act so painfully obvious that is almost cringe-worthy. And that's a lot coming from Luca, who despite all that reading he does never seems to notice when others notice him.

In what he hopes comes off as a hint, Luca turns back down to the book and pays him no mind. He wouldn't have been rude if the greeting had felt the least bit genuine, but he's seen this same boy parading around with a different arm candy each week, and heard enough rumors to figure what Bonnet plans to get out of an interaction such as this one.

"I'm Vicent," that's an awfully pretty name, "but you can call me Vic if you'd like," and that's the stupidest fucking nickname he's ever heard. Alright, maybe not that bad, but Luca's pleased bubble has been popped out of existence and it shows, sue him.

Luca bites on the cereal bar and it goes down like cardboard. This is awkward.

"You like those too?" and Bonnet keeps talking, now regarding Luca's snack. The sun streaming in from the window frames his hair, haloing it with a fiery glow and Luca has to admit, it is sort of charming. "I love them. What flavor you eatin’?"

It's also kind of insulting, and no amount of charm will fix that. All Luca knows to do is keep his eyes down and hope that it will end soon.

Silence falls in a shard that pokes at the room, and now the other two students are paying attention to them as well.

But Vicent doesn't go away, even when said shard grows into a spiked, tangible awkward mess, and Luca is debating whether or not to voice his thoughts when Vicent speaks again, except this time is different; his shoulders are heavy with distaste, and the grin is nowhere to be seen.

"Alright, fine," Vicent blurts out, alluring facade all but gone, "can I go to the bathroom?"

Now see, that's a much easier way of blowing off detention, and it doesn't require that stroke of an interaction they just had.

 _It could've worked_ , the words gnawed at the back of his mind; if he were less of a pretentious bastard, maybe, and if Luca liked boys. Or flirting. Or if Luca were a whole different person altogether.

But _this must be it_ , he thinks. This is how Vicent gets out of detention, coming up to whoever's in charge that day and throwing a series of passive-aggressive remarks and threats backed up by his surname if they tell him 'no'.

That might come off as judgemental of Luca, especially after admitting that he never talked to this boy before, but two years as a student here is more than enough to understand the kind of people you'll be dealing with. Luca has met many boys like Vicent. He knows how this always ends. And knowing that it will probably be worse if he doesn't, he says:

"Sure."

The redhead is out the door without so much as a glance. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't come back.

Not until next week, at least.

  
-

  
Luca was having a Very Not Good kind of day, and that was _before_ he had to sit through Nathan's bullshit of a pitch at the Weekly Alba. That is the school's newspaper, and a must-have on his college applications if he's going to pursue Journalism as a major. Luca had signed up for the club right away once he got here, eager for the experience value and all the learning he'd do and the fun he'd have doing what he loves. Because it must be fun, right.

Journalism must be _so fun_.

No, really, _it must be_ , but Luca wouldn't know because it's the last fucking thing he ever does there.

It's been a month since classes started and Luca hasn't been assigned a single article so far. Last year, the most relevant issue he covered was the parking lot repainting, and the year before he wasn't even allowed to singlehandedly write anything due to him being a freshman. It's common ground at Alba for clubs to not trust newcomers with crucial tasks at first, a sort of initiation, per se. So Luca had spent his afternoons organizing files and being an overall handyman, just like the other three new members had, which was absolutely fine.

But it's been two years and he's still tasked with pining the newspaper up on the boards every week, and fine is not cutting it anymore.

He's not a moron. He knows why this happens. Knew it would happen the moment he set foot on the polished wood floors, September 1st, frightened and homesick, yet so very enthusiastic.

It's not like he didn't see it coming. A black, penniless kid from New York, whose last name doesn't ring any bells to anyone who "matters", and with a scholarship nonetheless. He knew what to expect and what others would undoubtedly expect of him.

And it's not as if they make a conscious effort to belittle him, at least most of them; the newspaper's chief editor, Clara, is a good person. She's a senior, clever and critical. She'll make a great journalist, he's sure, and they'd engaged in good enough interactions to be considered amicable colleagues. Clara doesn't assign him tasteless news on purpose, but if he's being honest, that's somehow just as bad. The problem is that there is always _someone else_ ; someone with more _potential_ than him, someone who took a summer course on this subject last year, or someone who's _not as busy as you, Luca_ , or _sorry, but he really wants this one and his father donates a very generous quantity every year to our funds,_ and _you're not upset right? You understand where I'm coming from, maybe next time._

Yes, he understands. 

That's why it stings to hear it.

Part of what makes the scholarship process so difficult is that it's mainly for show. They offer a ridiculously small number of open spots and an atrociously huge amount of criteria you'd have to meet in order to _keep_ said scholarship. It was pretty obvious they didn't actually want him there, or anyone else like him for the matter.

Luca D'Angelo would be a liar if he said that didn't motivate him further. But that isn't the case for others, and it shouldn't be.

So he'll stay put, play by their rules until he swiftly rises to the top, to a place where he can make meaningful change; unthreatening until he isn't.

Losing big, to win big.

It's a solid, doable plan, and also his mantra for today as he channels all of his inner strength into keeping himself from punching Nathan's face into the next week.

"...so talking about it would just bring the school moral down, you know? The protests are already all over the news, you can't even open Twitter without feeling depressed anymore."

Luca doesn't miss the glance that Clara throws his way. Nathan keeps talking, ‘cause life is a torture chamber.

"We can write about, like, happy stuff you know. Stuff that's worth it. Make a big deal of it, create a... safe space in the school."

Luca is going to make a big deal of eating his fucking shoe. He doesn't miss the implications of Nathan's words: _stuff that's worth it_.

"So you want to act like it's not happening? You're aware that we're a news platform, right?" bless Clara, who seems to be the only one other than Luca that isn't buying Nathan's bullshit of an agenda.

But Nathan's posture is carefree, and he's grinning with the energy of someone who doesn't care, not really.

"How is this acting like it's not happening? We're having debates about it in class! I've handed an essay on it like, two days ago."

Nathan looks around in search for the support of his peers, which he gets, in quick nods and rushed murmurs of _totally_.

Luca hasn't moved a single muscle. He goes unnoticed, as always, except for one person.

"Luca?" Clara's voice pierces the room, firm and clear as ever. "What do you think?"

Suddenly, all eyes are on him. He clenches his jaw and stays silent, not because he doesn't know what to say, 'cause oh he does know what to say. He knows very well.

His eyes meet Nathan's and they're blue, just like his father's.

All Luca has to do is shift his gaze slightly towards his left, and he'll see it; the small portrait with those same eyes, staring him down, pinned to the board that's dedicated to all former Weekly Alba's chief editors. There it is, a part of Nathan's family legacy.

Above him, in every sense of the word.

He looks back at Clara, knowing that she will veto Nathan's idea if he says something. She'll stay by his side on this particular matter because she should. It's his place to speak up.

Except he can't, not really, not with the unspoken threat those four blue eyes represent.

He looks back at Nathan, and his smile is a hoax of the cruelest kind.

"You don't take it personally, right?"

The edges around his vision go black and blurry, threatening to consume the boy's face until his smile turns into nothing but teeth.

"Nah," Luca forces out, scrapping his dignity off the floor, "it's fine."

He storms out of the room the second the bell rings, and internalizes the Hell out of it.

And that's when he sees Vicent again, later that same afternoon.

Vicent's eyebrows shoot up when Luca walks in, seemingly recognizing him from last week. Luca isn't surprised by the reaction; he did just let Vicent walk away before, so of course, he'd be pleased to have another go at escaping detention again.

Luca sets his backpack down at the same time Vicent picks his up, and in four quick strides, he's already at Luca's table. There's only one other student in the classroom with them, and she's asleep on her table.

"Hey."

It's not half bad, and the boy seems a lot more genuine this time around, but Luca is frustrated to the point of exhaustion and the last thing he wants to do is put up a front and _talk_ to people, especially people like _Vicent_ , so he tries to cut this interaction short.

"Yeah, hi. You can just...", he waves his hand defeatedly in the general direction of the door, brain struggling to even form sentences at this point, "go. There. To the bathroom."

There's a pause while Luca rummages through his backpack, looking for a book or his cellphone or any other distraction. Vicent hesitates.

"You know I'm not coming back, right?"

"I'm counting on it," Luca bites back, with no real spite behind it, but it's still not something he would've said if he hadn't been in such a bad mood. He rushes to apologize as soon as he realizes his mistake, but Vicent beats him to it with a laugh.

He looks up, finally seeing Vicent. Like, really, actually seeing him, freckled skin stretched over his nose with how open his smile is, as if they'd known each other for years and this was just another common round of friendly banter. It's a little off-putting. And he's staring right back.

"Ouchy," Vicent says, voice coated with amusement.

That's unexpected and Luca doesn't know how to respond, so he just presses his lips tightly and gives him an awkward nod. Vicent is seemingly unfazed by this because he keeps going.

"Well, thanks for letting me go to the bathroom, ... ?"

He arches one brow in a silent question. And yes, okay, his name. Luca still has enough brain cells to answer that.

"Luca."

"Huh. Pretty," he nods.

"You t-- yours. Yours too."

_What the fuck._

"And you're welcome," Luca says, quickly, hoping it will overlap that slip and make it go unnoticed. "For hm. The bathroom."

"Yeah?" Vicent's got the biggest shit-eating grin, and it's annoying in a way that makes Luca sick with how much he wants to return it. He definitely noticed.

"Yeah," that's all he says, afraid to speak and embarrass himself even further.

Vicent isn't technically smiling anymore, but his lips have a natural way of just sitting on his face like he's about to break into a grin at any given time and it's sort of comforting in a way, and Luca suddenly understands why the boy is always surrounded by people.

In contrast, Luca doesn't have many friends.

He's not lonely though, at least he thinks so.

His roommate Daveed is pretty great, and after sharing a room for 2 years? Yeah sure, Luca would say they're friends. Good friends, even. They talk sometimes, when Luca isn't studying or researching or reading or at extracurricular activities.

There's Rebecca, another student with a full scholarship; she's on the Art program and they always pair up at P.E., because they're both very much Not Athletic, but still need to keep their grades above average at every subject and push-ups are more bearable when you have a company who's willing to rant through the process with you.

Rebecca's also kind, beyond all the black lipstick and sharp tongue; she once helped him through a stress-induced anxiety attack the week before finals. They talked for hours that day, and when curfew arrived, she snuck in the dorm with him and Daveed to spend the rest of the evening watching bad sitcom re-runs and stuffing their faces with Cheetos.

Naturally, he woke up on the next morning freaking out because _Jesus Christ he'd snuck a girl into his dorm last night and what if someone had caught them? They're both here on scholarships, that was so fucking stupid oh my God--_

Apparently, one is incapable of making good choices whilst running on a mixture of an empty stomach, crippling fear of failure, and Red Bull since noon. Go figure.

That was last year. They made a group chat, after. "cool kids but also luca".

So yeah, he has friends. Two. It's a good enough social network, he thinks. He's not looking for any new people in his life right now.

So, as pleasant as their interaction had been so far, he doesn't say anything else. And when Vicent shoots him a goodbye smile, makes his way through the door and leaves, Luca lets him.


	2. Great Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luca meets Vicent again, argues with a friend, goes to detention and quietly admires a professor from afar. Not exactly in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little sidenote about the set where this story takes place:
> 
> It takes place in around 2018-2020, but I decided to not include the whole pandemic business. Actually, it's pretty much entirely disconnected from actual real events and timeline. Mostly for story telling sake, so I'm sorry if that bothers you. There's a reference to BLM protests in this chapter, and even though I'm not pinning it down in our actual timeline, for context reasons, the protests did happen. It's a little all over the place, but I figured it'd be okay for a short novel.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

_coolkid1: hmm luca what the actual fuck_

The message arrived on "cool kids but also luca" after lunch, Monday. That's the day Weekly Alba is released every morning, and students get time to read it at recess.

_coolkid1: no but like_

_srsly_

_wtf_

His smartphone chimes insistently with each rapid-fire notification. Luca can picture it clear as day the characteristic black chipped fingernails typing away, even if the owner of said hands is halfway across the school right now, attending choir lessons.

Luca lets out a heavy sigh as he sits down on his desk.

It should be impressive, the way he just knows it's Rebecca without a single glance at the username.

_coolkid2: what_

_wait what happened_

Luca picks up the phone. He still got 5 minutes 'till the lecture starts. He scrolls through the thread and with a grimace sees Rebecca's typing.

_coolkid1: wtf daveed_

_where were u during lunch_

_coolkid2: napping??????????????????_

Rebecca sends a picture. It's this week's newspaper on one of the many boards scattered throughout the school.

_coolkid1: oh nO_

So, Nathan's idea went through.

This week's edition is a cacophony of half-assed "hope in humanity restored" short stories. Some have pictures to match, arranged in an aesthetically pleasing manner, in that way that makes it satisfying to look at and Luca wants to down seven gallons of gasoline at the sight. Strike a match and light him the fuck up.

At any other time of the year, that would've been a sweet idea. Except right now the world outside is _in flames_ , and they are a _news_ outlet for Christ's sake, why, how did it come to this? How can some people blind themselves to reality so willingly? Guess that's yet another superpower that comes with privilege.

Anyway, regarding the messages, he's only stalling because he feels responsible and won't be able to stand Rebecca's disappointment right now.

_coolkid1: luca i know ur readin these_

_stop thirsting aftr logan and answer me_

_slut_

It's a trap, and Luca falls for it, smiling dumbly at his phone because _goddamnit Becca_.

_andluca: am not thirsting_

_plus hes not even here yet_

_coolkid2: omg im shittin my pants dude u literally come runnin at the slightlest mention of him do yall hear wedding bells_

_coolkid1: gross_

_andluca: no no i came cause my name is being slandered ok_

_i do NOT thirst after mr ledford_

_coolkid1: " mr ledford "_

_coolkid2: mR LEDFORD ARE U FUCKIN KIDDING ME_

And because his life is a myriad of bad sequenced ironies, said literature professor chooses this exact moment to walk in the classroom. Sure, there's no way for him to know that Luca and his friends are currently talking about him, but the last thing he wants is to be seen by Mr. Ledford as the stereotypical teenager, giggling and obsessed with his phone. So he leaves it on the table and tries to be subtle with it.

Now. Mr. Ledford is conventionally attractive, sure. He's young for the job yet smart for his age and is by far the best teacher Luca ever had. But the reason he's so self-aware around the man is that he respects him very much, and not that he's crushing on him, just to make it clear. Sure, there's a funny ongoing quip between the three of them about how Luca's admiration can come across a little... _intense_ , but of course, he doesn't feel any way he shouldn't towards Mr. Ledford.

He's been staring for a beat too long and when Mr. Ledford shoots him a polite smile in response, Luca's face warms up with all that alleged respect. He looks down at his phone and the messages that greet him aren't of any help to his situation.

_coolkid2: ask to speak privately with him after class_

_oh excuse me mr ledford could u pretty pls help me with this a s s i g n m e nt_

Sometimes the quip goes a little too far, Daveed, you little shit.

_andluca: guys stop_

_coolkid2: come ooooon_

_stop being such a pussy_

_coolkid1: stop using the word pussy like that_

_actually stop in general_

"Good morning, guys. Did you have a good weekend?" Logan greets, adjusting his books on the table. The class is about to start and Luca won't miss another second of it by talking with these _apes_ , so he pockets his cellphone and grabs a pen.

_coolkid2: oh yes mr ledford definitely definitely talk about old books nonstop that gets me going_

_coolkid1: no kink-shaming in this household_

_except yeah luca u r a freak dont date a teacher_

_coolkid2: and if u do be smart and do it for the grades godamnit_

_coolkid1: ew_

_if he did it would never be for the grades and u kno what thats somehow worse_

_coolkid2: rIGHT_

_coolkid1: its gettin problematic lets stop i dont like it anymore ew_

_coolkid2: :p_

_oh_

_hes not readin anymore_

_i think we lost him_

_coolkid1: yea the class just started_

_fUCK_

_U GUYS DISTRACTED ME_

_THIS ISNT OVER LUCA_

-

"Someone's popular."

Luca snaps his head up at the voice, startled. It's been dead silent in the classroom until now, and Luca was starting to think that no one would show up for detention today.

Vicent's sitting on the last row, watching him. It takes Luca a minute to process what he just said, because _what? Where did he come from?_ , but he figures it must be because his cellphone has been beeping nonstop with Rebecca's texts for the past 5 minutes.

Which, again, what?

Luca closes his book and glances at the door, but alas, it's closed just like he left it, and he's sure Vicent wasn't here beforehand cause he remembers delighting himself in the fact that the class was empty and he could use the spare time to finish this week's obligatory reading, so _what?_ He looks back at Vicent. What?

"Huh."

The redhead laughs, the kind of open laughter that gives crinkles to your eyes and makes your shoulders tremble.

"I've got here like, five minutes ago," he's smiling, thankfully thinking Luca's mindlessness amusing rather than disrespectful. "Didn't even lift your head when I walked in. Should I be offended?" it's a soft sort of teasing, and Luca's not sure how to respond to it, given how little intimacy they have.

"Sorry. I."

"Sending me a lot of mixed signals here, Luca. I mean, you did call me pretty."

Luca winces, because of course that came back to bite him in the ass.

But he's figured Vicent out by now, he thinks. He's that sort of person who does this to everyone, and that might just be his way of joking around to break the ice, so taking it personally would probably mean more teasing. Luca needs to chill the fuck down; he was caught off guard the first few times they talked, being in a terrible mood himself on both times. Vicent seems like a nice guy, and Luca hasn't been all that fair to him. Well, he did make a pretty crappy first impression, but Luca's the last person who can judge anyone on that.

So he shoots him a soft grin and shrugs, holding up his copy of _Great Expectations_ to show off the cover.

"Sorry. You're no match for Dickens."

Vicent makes a face, smile still there.

"Of course you're a Dickens fan," he says.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Luca smiles back, indignantly, tilting his head to the side and putting the book back down but keeping it closed this time.

"That you leave nothing to the imagination, " Vicent shoots back, raking his eyes through Luca's clothes and overall belongings. There's an edge to his voice. _Prove me wrong_ , it says.

"Oh, I leave nothing to the imagination?" he parrots, nodding and pretending to be deep in thought. "Sure. 'Cause you're so hard to read, I mean, if I walk up to you right now and open your bag, I will most definitely not find anything Oscar Wilde related whatsoever."

Vicent's trying hard to hold back an incriminating smile, and he's failing marvelously.

"Yes," he lies.

"Liar."

"Nerd."

Alright then. _This is easy_ , Luca thinks, as both of them try to hold back the laughter. Not easy, exactly; it's challenging enough to keep up with Vicent's quips that Luca doesn't feel bored, so maybe easy is not the word. _Fluid_ , he thinks, watching how Vicent attempts to hold back a laughter of the same name. This back and forth of theirs is fluid in the same way that it is with Daveed and Rebecca, and Luca's surprised to find that he doesn't mind Vicent's wittiness; on the contrary, it bounces off of him like second nature and it's neat to watch.

"And why am I the nerd? You're carrying a book too," Luca points out, not buying the previous lie.

"I am not," Vicent insists, and Luca rolls his eyes, "and you're the one reading in detention."

"I'll have you know that this is an obligatory reading"

Vicent scoffs. "Like that's any less nerdy," yeah, Luca dropped the ball on that one, he'll admit, "I bet you're here for extra credits or something."

"I am, actually. And why are you here?"

"Well, kind of a long story. My friends and I--"

"No, I--" Luca interrupts, misinterpreted. "I know. I mean, I don't know _know_ , but that part's obvious, you got in trouble."

Vicent grins, clearly pleased with the phrasing.

"I meant, like, why. Isn't 'Bonnet' basically a get out of jail card?"

Vicent throws his head back in what Luca sees as exasperation and his arms flail behind dramatically. He can't see his face.

"Yeah but dad likes to keep tabs on me, so. I don't have that luxury," he says, voice straining with what Luca assumes to be the effort of bending his neck.

"Oh," Luca nods, to no one in particular, "that's good right?"

There's a pregnant pause. Luca waits, but it's the first time Vicent's voice doesn't cut through a silence between them.

"Not like, conventionally good but," he hurries to explain because this has been so good so far and Luca kinda panics at the prospect of ending this conversation on a bad note, "good in the sense that he cares enough to not let you get away with everything."

Vicent lifts his head at that, locking blank eyes with Luca and for a moment he thinks he screwed up already. But Vicent smiles through the stray locks that have fallen on his face from the sudden movement ( _pretty_ ) and Luca let's out a breath he didn't notice he was holding.

"So you don't care about me then?" he says through his smile, combing the hair away from his face with a hand.

"Huh?" Luca blinks, confused.

Vicent leans forward, elbows on the table and Luca swears it's like, the hundredth time the boy has changed positions in the past few minutes. He says like it's a secret:

"You've let me get away with detention a lot for the past couple of weeks."

Right. Luca forgot about that.

"Point proven," he retorts, smiling because at this point it's impossible not to.

They talk, and talk, and then talk some more, and Luca finds out that Vicent can't ditch detention this time because the only place where he can hide safely from the staff is his dorm, but his roommate sneaked his girlfriend in there earlier and asked Vicent if he could not come back till after curfew, so Vicent said yes because he's _not an asshole_ , to which Luca replied _I find that hard to believe_ and that somehow brought them back to the previous Wilde/Dickens argument. At some point, they started talking about school, and Vicent asked him why on Earth would he be spending this window of opportunity to do nothing that is detention duty, doing assigned reading.

"Well. I mean, there is an explanation."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Luca nods, "but it might be a little... hard to believe."

"Hm."

"I'll tell you, but pay attention okay? It's a hard concept to grasp."

At some point Vicent had stood up to sit beside Luca in the front of the classroom, and they can talk lower now that the distance is gone.

"Alright," he replies.

"Some people..."

"...yeah?"

"Read _for fun_."

" _Oh, fuck off._ "  
  


-  
  


He doesn't finish _Great Expctations_ that afternoon, so he has to go to the library before curfew to renovate the due date and Vicent's _you leave nothing to the imagination_ hits him like a punch in the guts when he walks in to see Rebecca sitting on one of the shared tables, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

She looks him dead in the eye and must sense his instinct to turn around and run because she deadpans as soon as she sees she's been noticed:

"You are so predictable."

He sighs, defeated. "How long have you been waiting here?"

"Not long," she shrugs, "Ms. Brown gave me the detention's schedule."

Rebecca makes no move to get up, so Luca sighs for what feels like the tenth time that day and sits across from her. The only thing more accusing than her stare is the "BLM" pin on her lapel, to which Luca has a matching one he's wearing despite not feeling very worthy of it's statement lately.

Her eyebrows are stern, the usual black eyeshadow frames her eyes and exaggerates their icy blue and Luca is fondly terrified because that harshness is exactly what makes her so amazing to have around, but he's still not sure how to deal with it when it's pointed at him.

"I'm not mad," she tries; emphasis on 'tries' because Luca doesn't believe that for a second, which is exactly what he tells her.

"I don't believe that for a second."

"Fine," her arms drop from it's crossed position in an attempt to look less defensive. It helps. "I am. But not at you. Nathan is a dick and Clara should've known better."

"She does," he retorts, but Rebecca's instant scowl makes it clear that she doesn't buy it, "and knowing better is knowing that we can't afford to lose his dad's funding."

"Bullshit," she exclaims, and they're not whispering anymore, "money is not a problem in this school, the problem is that it's all stuffed in the pockets of greedy rat bastards."

Luca pinches the bridge of his nose, irritated, because how can she not understand?

"Well, and are you going to be the one to storm into the principal's office to tell him that?"

"If I could!" her voice is loud enough to warrant dirty looks and a stern "shh!" from the librarian. Neither of them acknowledges it, but the next time Luca speaks, it's quieter.

"Exactly, Becca," it comes out defeated, and Luca takes no pride in knowing that he's right. "If you could. You know we can't, you know _I_ can't, and I'm doing my best with what I have right now and I'm just as frustrated as you are, but this is all I can do okay? I'm." his voice starts shaking and he needs to pause and take a deep breath because he is not breaking down in a library. Not again, anyways. "I'm doing my best."

There's a pause. The roaring in Luca's ears gets worse because she's right, she has a point and Luca should've done something, fought harder, or at least try to--

"Luca, hey."

\--negotiate something where he doesn't end up conforming to the "me rich you poor, do what i say", what if this follows him forever? He thought he was picking his battles but what if Harvard sees that as not being assertive enough? Is he a pushover?

"Luca."

Oh God, he's a pushover. Clara explicitly voiced her desire to hear him out and he shot her down and sucked it up to _Nathan_ of all people. Is this what they mean by "you've become the one thing you swore to destroy"?

"I. Luca that's a little too much I thi--," has he been talking out loud this whole time? "Yes."

"It's just-- I used to be so impulsive and I needed to get better at that and I did and I thought I was improving but now this happened and I don't kn-- this is ridiculous I basically got myself from an extreme to another."

"You're getting on my extreme right now."

"I." he stops. The words are sharp but her smile is gentle, unusual enough to make him stop in his tracks because Rebecca never smiles. "Sorry."

"You went to coocoo-town over there for a minute," she says, looking at him that way she always does when he overworks himself over an assignment or refills his coffee mug at one in the morning. It's not exactly reprimanding; it's a little pitiful to be honest, even though she'll never admit so, and it should make him feel bad but at this point is so familiar that it brings Luca a sense of grounding.

He snorts. "I always go to coocoo-town, it's a personality trait at this point."

They smile at each other, but it's unsure. Luca looks down to fidget with the hem of his oversized sweater, just to have something to do with his hands.

"Sorry I yelled," she speaks first, "I lied. I guess I was a little mad at you."

"A little?"

They share a knowing smile, and she nudges his feet under the table.

"But I wasn't thinking," she admits. Luca mentally disagrees. "You're right. It's a tough position to be in and there's a lot on the line for you. I know how important your future is for you, and implying that it matters less than a stupid school paper was a dick move."

"A little bit."

"Like, really. You don't have the luxury of speaking your mind in a place like this and I shouldn't try to push my actions onto you--"

He smiles, because how dumb can they be?

"You don't have to explain yourself. I get it," he says and it may be the truest truth to ever come out of his mouth. "And you know what? Maybe I'll do something about it."

"Nice." she gives him a final smirk before her face falls back into the expressionless canvas it normally is, and Luca knows she gets him too. "Can't wait to see that. Come on, let's get out of here, I'll buy you an apology bagel."

It's not until they're making playful banter at the cafeteria line that Luca remembers, with a frustrated cry, that he forgot to renovate the book's due date.

-

_Deja vu_ , he thinks, looking down at the message.

_coolkid1: luca what the actual fuck_

It's the next day and Luca's walking to his first class.

_coolkid1: like_

_i kno u said u were gonna do smth_

_but damn????_

He frowns and starts typing.

_andluca: ?_

_what r u talkin about?_

_coolkid2: luca what did u do again_

_andluca: not sure_

There's a commotion of students gathered in front of a wall on the busy hallway as if they all don't have classes to rush to.

Luca stares at it for a bit, confused. He approaches the cluster, looking down on his phone, still typing.

_coolkid1: i take back all i said yesterday_

_ur a savage luca_

_andluca: lol? i rlly have no idea what u talkin about_

_coolkid1: ?? dont front_

_andluca: m not_

He reaches the commotion and looks up. They're all standing around one of the school's many announcement boards. They have all the types of signs and propaganda pinned to it.

That's also where they pin the newspaper every week.

_coolkid1: luca you have to see the paper_

_just go_

_like run trust me im not kiddin_

_i rlly thought this was you cause yesterday you said you would do somethin about it?????????_

_coolkid2: dude im stil gettin dressed just send me a pic im curiouss_

Luca sees the newspaper and his jaw hits the floor. His cellphone buzzes insistently in his hand and he looks down to see the picture Rebecca just sent.

_coolkid2: oh_

_hell_

_yeah_

The picture mirrors the sight above him, except it's from another board located on the 2nd floor. People are talking around him but the only noise he hears is the notifications of his phone.

_coolkid2: OH THAT IS AWESOME_

Written across the entire article, in big, red blocky letters, ink still practically dripping wet:

**B U L L S H I T**


	3. A+

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Alright fine. He's pleased.
> 
> He knows the act wasn't meant for him in particular, but Luca can't help feeling the opposite with how much that shit with Nathan ruined his week. He'll welcome this coincidence with open arms, let it inside his heart, make it some tea, maybe give it some biscuits, be the best fucking host in all of history if it means that he can get this feeling to stay forever, this feeling of being seen. Not by anyone in particular, but by the universe as a whole or something. That has to be worth at least a little bit. "

Heads turn to do a double-take at Luca as he walks down the hall -- or maybe 'walk' isn't accurate. He's _skipping_ , vibrating with giddiness, visibly _enthralled_ ; his feet glide across the polished floors like he's stepping on clouds.

Well, to be fair he isn't actually being stared at, no one notices him nearly as much for that, but he definitely feels as if he is; there’s an emotion in his chest so latent and loud that he thinks it’s impossible for it to go unnoticed. It's screaming _look, look at me!_ like a whiny kid at the candy section of a supermarket, and Luca is it's stern mother holding it by the arm and muttering _do not embarrass me, we’ll sort this out at home and then you’ll see_.

He reaches his destination and stops, holding back a smile. He rips down yet another copy of this week's newspaper, tainted ( _decorated)_ with red ugly words like the other two copies he’s collected so far.

_Is this bad?_ , the question crosses his mind when the sharp sound of paper getting ripped reaches his ears like harmony. _Is it bad that I'm enjoying this too much?_

Plenty of people worked hard on it, after all. His colleagues, nonetheless, the ones he's been working with since freshman year.

_For_ , another echo in his mind, _the one's you've been working for_.

He sighs so deep it aches, feeling like his lungs can smash every other organ in their way if he isn’t careful enough, and looks down at the papers he's gathered so far.

Hm. Well.

He rips those in half again, just for good measure.

As he makes his way to the next location, Luca’s mind wanders back to classes that morning; time did nothing to diminish his good mood and he still feels just as excited, which is saying a lot because this morning Luca couldn't even hide the happiness from both his friends. Well, granted that doesn't mean much for Rebecca, that teen witch project can read anyone with as much as a twitch of their lips, but Daveed is, for the lack of a better word, _tactless_ in that department. He's not insensitive, really; he's genuinely sweet once you get past the dramatic persona, but he can't read a room as well as the average person. So yeah-- if Luca couldn't even fool him, he had it bad.

Daveed had given him nothing more than a once-over and said:

"Someone could buy you a giant fucking bouquet of roses and you wouldn't bat an eye, but sure, defacing the 'socially insensitive' work of your archnemesis will have you creaming your pants in one second. Go figure."

To which Luca properly responded with a "Fuck you."

But that was at lunch, the one time where they really get together for a bit in between classes. Luca and Rebecca on the other hand, had P.E. together first thing in the morning right after he saw the vandalized joke of the article, and the high of that lingered for so long that he even joined his fellow students in a game of volleyball. 

As in, he participated in _sports_.

Willingly. At 8 in the morning.

Rebecca glared in distaste the whole time from the bleachers and he's 80% sure that she recorded him at some point.

"And did you like it?" Daveed had asked after Rebecca showed him said video at the cafeteria line before Luca headed to the library as usual.

"No," he and Rebecca responded in unison. Luca rolled his eyes and elbowed her before continuing alone this time, "I suck at it. I’m gonna stick to desk activities."

"On God, D'Angelo, I'm holding you to that promise,” Rebecca hastily threw a scone on her tray, “Seeing you move your body like that? Disgusting."

"You know what I like the most about our friendship? Your emotional range, I mean, it’s like you always know exactly what to say."

They side-eye each other, grinning. Luca's an only child but he's pretty sure that this is what having a sibling must feel like; the banter, and disagreements, and sudden bursts of realizing that you really just like them very, very much.

Daveed wait a beat before asking:

"Wanna sit together and try to guess who did it?" he glances at Becca, too quickly for Luca to notice. But she did, and returned his gaze with the same sentiment, sharing an unspoken comradery.

"Nah," Luca responds, too busy picking up a soda can to see the look both of his friends shared at that, "library awaits. I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

They nod and bid their goodbyes. Rebecca and Daveed part ways too after Luca is gone and he doesn't hear from the group chat anymore for the rest of the morning.

Now he's wandering, admittedly slower than necessary, around the school in the mission to take down the damaged papers while the rest of the club discusses damage control and what to do next, a meeting he is, for once, delighted to not be a part of for the time being.

He honestly thought they would've taken it down sooner, more specifically as soon as they saw it that morning but something about "not causing a scene" and "being the bigger person" and "no one's going to be exposed any further to it anyway because all the students will be attending their classes" and other variations of that were being thrown around, but honestly Luca wasn't paying much of attention because Nathan's face was reaching an alarming range of 15 shades of red at the time, and Luca imagined that if he stared hard enough he would be able to see smoke coming out of his ears.

Oh, what a sight for his sleep-deprived, bloodshot eyes.

Sure, the other students didn't seem to have any complaints about the article but Luca knows best; if he didn't speak up, it's ludicrous to expect anyone else to.

Well-- anyone else other than...

He looks down at the ripped pages he's holding.

Whoever did this.

-

_coolkid1: he's projecting_

_coolkid2: bro_

_coolkid1: living vicariously through someone else_

_coolkid2: nono listen_

Luca sighs, finally setting his pen down on the table to look above his shoulder. His cellphone is all the way over on his bed but he can still hear the buzz every few seconds and he's been glaring daggers at it since it started. Then he looks the other way to the boy stretched out on the other bed, grinning at his own phone, typing.

_coolkid2: he's in love_

_love at first destruction of private property_

_coolkid1: i'd hardly call it that_

_coolkid2: love or private property?_

_coolkid1: both_

Luca's phone buzzes again, almost comically in sync with Daveed’s typing, and Daveed chuckles along. Luca keeps his stare on him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Stop talking about me behind my back," he says, but it only makes Daveed's smile grow wider. Luca is deliberately ignored and he's close to whining at this point. This assignment is a pain in the ass and he hasn’t had coffee since morning which makes his head hurt like a bitch and the background noise ring in his ears much louder than usual.

"Daveed..." he does whine, throwing his head back and stretching the name in a sluggish manner.

"Whaaaat?" comes the response, just as whiny.

Luca can't help but chuckle briefly at the absurd of two grown boys acting like babies in the dorm of a highly prestigious academy.

_coolkid2: the modern cinderella story_

_coolkid1: omg_

_for real tho i rlly wanna kno who did this_

_coolkid2: i_

_may have a guess :)_

"Just text Becca privately, the buzzing is distracting. I have to finish this essay tonight."

"You? No. Impossible," he starts and Luca rolls his eyes, already knowing how it ends, "That doesn't sound like the Luca I know, he'd never slave himself over an essay that's perfectly fine the way it is the night before it's due."

"Haha."

" _Especially_ not to impress a certain professor."

Luca turns back to the table and answers without looking up from his notebook, "Stop texting," he gives the final word to hopefully now get his full attention back to the task at hand.

Daveed always thinks that his essays are great on the first read and that Luca should stop reviewing them every five minutes or he'd just keep finding more mistakes because A) the obsessive behavior is bad for his crippling perfectionism and B) it's just plain sad. Luca disagrees, of course, because if he can find a mistake and fix it, why wouldn't he want to do that? Like right now, for example, the introduction seemed fine two fortnights ago but upon second glance it could definitely be shortened if he made it more straightforward and danced less around the point.

Actually, no.

Actually yes, he read it again and yup it's dangerously close to sounding the same way he does when he's anxious and babbles too further into a subject--

_Bzz._

Luca sighs and shifts uncomfortably on his chair. Anyways,--

_coolkid2: tell u ltr_

_more importantly, i think we’re breakin through_

_coolkid1: ooh_

\--it's so cringy when that happens, Mr. Ledford might as well just have a stroke on the first paragraph alone, and wouldn't that be--

_Bzzz._

_coolkid2: yea hes gettin pissed_

_coolkid1: lets flood the chat_

\--festive? Hopefully he can fix this if he just--

_Bzz._

_coolkid2: a_

_coolkid1: a_

_a_

"Damn it, Daveed!"

Luca turns instantly, more aggressive this time, patience running thin. "Seriously, just text privately, Jesus Christ what's your problem?"

He's met with silence. They stare intently at each other.

Ok, that was a bit harsh. But Daveed _is_ uncharacteristically inconsiderate tonight, and now that Luca’s thinking about it, Daveed doesn't look bothered for getting yelled at. Why--

Wait.

"...are you doing this on purpose?"

There's a pregnant pause where Daveed, in spite of himself, manages to keep the poker face.

"You've reached the 'crazy eyes' stage and I'm contractually obligated to stop you from writing yourself out of existence," he deadpans, as if Luca should know exactly what he's talking about.

"Huh?"

Question is, does he want to know? Is it worth asking?

"It's a thing Rebecca and I have. It's called the Luca Scale."

"The Luca--" no. No, he doesn't and no it's not.

"Anyways," so, they're moving on pretty quick from that, thank God, "Relax. You've made me read that ten times, it was perfect then and I'm sure it's perfect now so can you please come lie down and gossip with me until we fall asleep on our faces like normal teenagers?"

Luca does his best not to pout, "What would we even gossip about?" he asks to be clever but Daveed's smile widens predatorily and Luca feels as if he’s walked straight into a bear trap.

"About your little prince charming, who’s got you all _charmed_ " Daveed sits up on the bed, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Luca, "The one who saved you from the Big Bad Papa's Boy article."

If Becca were here she'd call him out for the underlying sexism. 

"We don't know if it's a 'he'," Luca shrugs, cause it doesn't hurt to say, "plus, I'm not charmed."

"Oh, but you are. You literally played volleyball today, you are so fucking pleased."

Alright fine. He's pleased.

He knows the act wasn't meant for him in particular, but Luca can't help feeling the opposite with how much that shit with Nathan ruined his week. He'll welcome this coincidence with open arms, let it inside his heart, make it some tea, maybe give it some biscuits, be the best fucking host in all of history if it means that he can get this feeling to stay forever, this feeling of being seen. Not by anyone in particular, but by the universe as a whole or something. That has to be worth at least a little bit.

Daveed’s laugh cuts through his line of thought.

"See? You're beaming, oh my God, and you have the _nerve_ to deny it?" he gets an eraser thrown at his face by an unamused Luca for the mockery, and it only makes him laugh harder.

Daveed's smile sticks in his mind and morphs dangerously fast into another unapologetic one, which Luca only ever saw at detention.

_You leave nothing to the imagination._

_Okay_ , he thinks to himself, _I get it, he's right. You can stop now._

His brain doesn't stop, though; it goes further, a domino effect that can't be contained once it starts and there's no end in sign, tumbling and falling and taking thoughts with it until it slows down into a specific one: 

_Did Vicent hear about what happened?_

_What did he think?_

_Which side is he on?_

Alright, so maybe more than one.

"Anyways," he blurts out, suddenly very eager to be distracted, "I don't care about who did it. I'm just happy that _someone_ did it, you know? It's, like..." he stops, trying to find the right words.

Daveed smiles, patting the mattress on his side in invitation. Luca rolls his eyes but gets up anyway to sit cross-legged at the end of Daveed's bed. He gets thrown a pillow to hold onto.

"Like, it's easy to feel kinda... isolated? Not physically," he takes a deep breath, but the mockery is all gone by now and Daveed is paying close attention, "but socially. Here at Alba, I mean. Well, not just here but, you get it," he says it like it's a question, waiting for Daveed’s input.

He nods, so Luca continues.

"Especially on the Weekly. I don't feel... heard at all, and in last week's meeting I just didn't-- Well I guess, technically I had the chance to say something, but it felt like-- kind of like a trap? So I didn't. And then Becca and I had an argument over it--" Luca chuckled seeing how surprised Daveed seemed at that, "Yeah, it wasn't anything major but we kind of disagreed and it left me doubting my... my approach to things, so. But. It's fine, we're not mad at each other, we talked."

"...but?"

Luca laughs at that, hugging the pillow tighter on his lap.

"That's it. No but."

"There's always a but."

"Since when are you so introspective?"

It's Daveed's turn to laugh now, which in turn leaves Luca smiling to himself. Because this is good, really good, Luca is enjoying himself in a way he hadn't ever before. He's used to joking around with Rebecca and Daveed, but tonight there's... something else, like he checked all the boxes on the Friendship category; he opened himself, shared something he's been struggling with, and was heard. They fell into the "sharing emotions" hole and then were able to dig themselves out of it by joking around again. It's good.

It's really good.

"Well," Daveed's smile lights up his face like he's proud of himself for noticing, "it's a night of surprises. You chose me over the essay and I forced my mind to wake up that extra brain cell to work the Emotional Range wing, so."

Luca throws himself off the bed in a matter of seconds.

"Fuck, the essay."

Behind him, an abandoned Daveed grunts:

"Oh, _come on!”_

-

He hands out his paper to Mr. Ledford the next morning and gets an A+.

And once again, staying up until 1 AM was so _worth it_.

Like, he gets it, it's not healthy. He knows, he understands the psychological aspects behind it, how he thrives on praise because of his childhood, or-- or how he can't separate himself from his craft and validation on his work means _everything_ to him, but. A+.

Logan Ledford just finished scribbling the biggest, proudest A+ on his essay and he has on a huge smile that Luca is trying his hardest not to mirror. He keeps his head down, primarily to avoid eye contact with the professor but also to keep basking on the sight of his grade. It's written in red and Luca can't help but think how the color seems to be a constant theme on every good moment he’s had this week. If the pattern keeps going, he'll have no choice but to make it his favorite color.

(Should Vicent fall into that category? He's a 'redhead' but technically his hair is orange. Not that it matters.)

"Outstanding work as always, Luca", Ledford praises, and it turns Luca's spine into jelly.

Luca won't ever shut up about the mind of this man and his amazing approach to literature in general, but if he's being honest, the thing about Ledford that makes him so magnetic to Luca is how unassuming he actually is. Being Alba's youngest professor (he's in his early 30's, a literal baby next to the rest of the board) there's a reputation others built around him. It didn't help that he's... commonly attractive; caucasian, dark blond, _great jawline_ \-- not that he'd ever notice the latter, but the girls in his class seem to emphasize that a lot so it must be legit.

The best way to describe would be by saying Ledford's reputation doesn't precede him; it's disappointing, for some. New students are fascinated by the young, cool, handsome teacher and expect a charismatic hip personality to go with it, to then find out that Ledford is anything _but_.

He's quiet even though his classes are majorly speech-based; he doesn't know how to deal with awkward situations and tends to fold down on himself whenever the students start getting loud and chaotic. And that's ordinary, anyone would feel a little lost in a situation like that.

And that's what Ledford is, at heart: ordinary. Students expect him to be quirky and witty, a nerd but charmingly so, and ultimately, he isn't.

Luca loves that.

In fact, Luca relates to that.

Ledford relies on his craft in order to _be_ something, and in Luca's opinion, it works. Not many stick around Ledford to see what's underneath, but the ones who do end up glad that they did.

At least that's what Luca thinks, because there's no way he's the only one who feels like that about this man.

"Hm. Thanks, I had fun doing it," Luca responds, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Mr. Ledford arches his brows at that.

"Well, that's something I don't expect to hear from a student," Luca laughs through his nose, nodding.

There's a pause where Luca stands there, waiting because he feels like Mr. Ledford is hesitating and wants to say something. He straightens Luca's papers and looks up at him from his desk after a sigh.

_Something wrong?_ Luca wants to ask, dread sitting at the pit of his throat. Thankfully, Ledford beats him to it.

"Well," he starts, careful, "it is one week early."

Luca's not sure what's wrong with that but he still fumbles to answer.

"Yeah, well. I have a lot of work to do during the week, so I like to get those out of the way. But-- I can wait, next time," he probably looks just as distressed as he feels because Ledford is quick to rebuttal.

"No no, it's not an inconvenience for me by any means," he nods and Luca goes along, feeling the tension dissipate a little. "I'm always thrilled to read anything you write. You're very talented, Luca."

The compliments sit at the bottom of his stomach the same way the knot of unsureness had at the beginning, and it's like medicine. Ok yeah, he'll admit, it’s kind of fucked up how his mood can swing with just a few words of encouragement.

But Ledford is not finished, so neither is this rollercoaster.

"It's you I'm worried about. There is such a thing as burning out, you know."

Luca nods. That's the only thing he seems to be able to do right now.

"You're a brilliant kid and your grades are great, Luca. I'm sure you can afford to take breaks every once in a while."

He nods again. There's a ringing in his ears that he can't tell where it's coming from.

"Don't-- please, don't take this the wrong way." Ledford's voice is so demure that Luca has to make an effort to follow his words. It's grounding, somehow. "Your efforts are so, so worth it. But so is your health."

He's accustomed to hearing that from his colleagues. Luca never gave it much thought because he always assumed that they just didn't understand.

It's different, hearing it from Mr. Ledford.

"--and I know that health isn't what this school... prioritizes. I know you have a lot of obstacles ahead of you, and even right now. But you have so much potential and trust me, you won't deter it by giving a little more attention to your well-being. Do you, hm," he taps the table awkwardly, "understand what I'm trying to say?"

There's a long, heavy pause. Luca forces out:

"Yes," it's raspy. Small.

Ledford nods, and Luca can sense that he's confused by the turn this conversation took, too. Luca can't blame him; he himself doesn't understand what he's feeling right now.

"Great. Good. Well."

Mr. Ledford fidgets in his seat. Then he says, more honest and less awkward:

"Take care, okay?"

And Luca leaves, not feeling so much like an A+ anymore.

-

It gets worse later that morning, and Luca accepts with a grimace that his good streak is undeniably over by this point.

He's making his way to the cafeteria, debating over whether or not to try and tell Daveed about the conversation he had with Mr. Ledford, and how it made him feel. It wasn't that bad, last night, talking about his feelings and stuff. Daveed is a good listener when it matters.

He's walking right by the bathroom when it happens. It's quick and blurry; Luca feels himself being grabbed by the elbow and dragged, not too violent, because it doesn't have the time to be. The hand releases him once he's inside the men's bathroom, and he opens his eyes to find the last person he wanted to see that day.

Nathan, along with three other newspaper members, stares at him from the sinks. The hand that grabbed him wasn't his though, and he turns to notice another guy holding the door closed.

_Great_ , he thinks, hysterically. _Awesome._

Nathan is not putting up any acts this time; no cocky smiles or relaxed eyebrows. The neutrality in his face is unsettling.

Luca clenches his jaw, waiting for the confrontation, but it's clear that Nathan wants him to make the first move. Luca is too tired to care about power dynamics right now, so he caves

"What is going on?" he asks, thanking the universe that his voice came out as unshaken and clear as it did.

"Don't play dumb with me, D'Angelo," Nathan snarls back, crossing his arms. "Did you really think you were being subtle?"

That's a very open-ended question, a bait that Luca refuses to bite. He stands his ground and only responds by raising one eyebrow.

The tight smile Nathan shoots him in return is patronizing at best.

He takes a step towards Luca, who does his best not to recoil.

"I know it was you who crapped all over my article."


	4. The Hash Brown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He looks back at Luca.
> 
> And looks back at the boys again.
> 
> And back at Luca.
> 
> And then to the bathroom door he was probably about to enter.
> 
> He noticed. He definetely noticed, fuck."

  
  


Several thoughts come to mind in that moment.

First, that he's hungry. He was too anxious about handing in the essay to eat this morning, so coffee was all he had for breakfast. He thought that maybe he'd splurge for lunch and get not one, but  _ two _ sides of hash browns -- oh yes, the  _ luxury _ \-- to make up for that and celebrate in case he got an A+.

(The plan falled flat after the conversation with Mr. Ledford left him feeling a little unworthy of an extra hash brown, but the intention is still there.)

Second; is he gonna get beat up? Like, is that a thing that happens? Bullies beating up the underdog in the man's bathroom at school, shoving the head of a nerd inside a toilet? If that's the case then better start searching for escape routes, because the closest Luca has ever gotten to fighting is the everyday wrestle with his overstuffed backpack when he wants to shove an extra book in there. 

Last, but definetely not least: how the fuck is he supposed to convince Nathan that he's actually innocent?

He can't even peg Nathan for a crazy paranoid guy when he knows everything points to him being the prime suspect right now. Luca's rarely in the company of others, so he's got no alibi, and Nathan has known about his distaste for the article since day one. Plus, Nathan is really looking for someone to blame and Luca has a hunch that it's due to his pride being stained redder than the actual papers.

And because Luca's as anxious as they come, the first scenario his mind provides is the one where he can't prove Nathan wrong.

The one where he has to pack his bags and go back home, and Mr. Ledford is the one to give him the news for some reason, and it's both a blessing and a curse to see him one last time before he goes because sure, it's his favorite teacher but also Luca won't ever shake away the look in Ledford's eyes because he'll be so disappointed in Luca, he knows he will, and Luca will be so mortified he won't even be able to say a proper goodbye.

Then Rebecca would be so pissed off at the injustice of it all, that's just the way she is, and in an attempt to defend him against Nathan's accusations she'd make a scene and blow up just like Luca always knew it was bound to happen one day, getting herself expelled on his behalf.

So there you go, now Luca's ruined two lives because he couldn't mask the disdain he feels everytime Nathan opens his mouth. Great. Great, that's great.

He can practically see Harvard slipping away from his fingers, down the abism he tried so hard to distance himself from all this time; he sacrificed so much for a single opportunity and he can't let that go, God please, he can't, this can't be happening, he's nothing if not a good student and he can't go back to being nothing again, so please, please--

"Please Nathan, you have to believe me, I swear I didn't do it. I swear. I'll prove it, I would never-- why would I even try? I-- I have nothing to gain from this."

His hands are shaking, so he clasps them together.

Nathan exchanges looks with the others, not missing the way his voice cracked at the end. Luca thinks he sees a glimpse of empathy in those blue eyes but to be fair he can't tell if it's real or wishful thinking. He’s betting on the latter, when Nathan turns to face him and say, uncertain:

"I find that hard to believe, D'Angelo."

Hard, but not impossible, he thinks, nodding in the other boy's direction and biting his tongue to keep himself grounded. Okay, alright. Hard. He can make "hard" work.

(Daveed would've jumped on the sexual innuendo and made at least five uncreative jokes about it, annoying Luca to no end, and the realization that Luca will miss him if he gets sent home hits him harder than a ton of bricks. That's a friend he'll be missing; why is he only now figuring out that he's a friend?)

"I didn't like the article, that's true," Luca waited for a bigger reaction, but Nathan seemed unimpressed by the revelation, "but I love that club and I wouldn't deface a newspaper just because I don't agree with it."

There's a big pause where Luca doesn't even breathe, afraid that the slightest disturbance to Nathan's thoughts might tip the scale against him. The boy looks him up and down before setting his gaze firmly into Luca's own.

The silence stretches.

Luca's vision starts to blur with how hard he's staring.

"You're the one who pins the copies every week to the boards. You know all of the locations."

Luca shifts. "Not all of them were ruined."

"You're the only one that was left alone with the newspaper after they were printed."

Luca is seconds from shoving his own head inside the nearest toilet, no bullies needed.

"And how would I have pinned and scribbled all over them at the same time? Without anyone else noticing me?"

"Right, because people pay so much attention to you."

Honestly. It feels like he's been slapped. Whatever argument he had, died on his throat, trapped down by how tight it feels.

They were having a fair (as fair as this can go, anyway), albeit unbalanced discussion so far.

What had prompted the petty comeback? It's a stretch, and Luca's sure Nathan knows that no matter how much of a nobody he is, there's no way in hell people wouldn't have noticed him just hastily writing curse words in bright red all over a news board. Luca knows what it is.

It's inconceivable, unfounded, borderline impossible, and-- and only meant to hurt.

And worst of all, it works, because it's true. It's not like he takes it personally-- he doesn't, plus it's Nathan and no matter how many redeeming qualities he has (not a lot, by the way) he's still an asshole to the very core, so Luca's honestly glad that Nathan doesn't think highly of him.

But still. That doesn't make it not true. Luca's loneliness doesn't bother him (really, it doesn't). Luca likes being alone with his thoughts, he has great thoughts. It's cool. It is what it is.

Doesn't mean he likes having the fact shoved on his face for no apparent reason.

"Someone's gotta go down for this," he hears Nathan say, completely unbothered and Luca knows then that the truth doesn't matter to him.

Luca has to force out the words through the tightness in his throat when he says: "Why me?"

"Who else?"

"Maybe the person who actually did it?"

"If they show up, sure."

Luca lets out an almost hysterical chuckle at that. This is so frustrating.

"Why do I have a feeling that you won't be looking for said person?" he crosses his arms and looks down to compose himself. He looks back up in time to see Nathan shrugging and he wishes he'd kept his eyes down.

"Like I said, someone needs to take the blame for it. How do you think the school's gonna look if we let this go unpunished?"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," the frustration finally came to a point where it rose above his fear, and the tension left Luca's body in waves, smaller with every word from Nathan, letting himself relax and lean against the nearest wall.

Or maybe exhaustion is what won him over. He's not sure.

"Is there a point to this?" Luca gestures to the other boys surrounding them, "We could've had this conversation in the cafeteria,"  _ you know, like normal people. _

...unless.

Luca hesitates, because he's really hoping that's not the case:

"You want something from me."

Nathan nods and takes a step forward, hands casually inside his pockets.

"Fine, you probably didn't do it, I'll give you that. You wouldn't be that stupid."

He takes another step, closer than before.

"But I know you hang around those two delinquents a lot, and I'm pretty sure you know who did it."

Luca's mouth opens to retaliate, but Nathan quickly holds one finger up and Luca hates the way he goes silent on instinct.

"And if you don't, I'm also pretty sure you can find out. Based on the… kinds of people you choose to fraternize with."

Luca blinks up at him. And remembers.

First week of high school back in freshman year, Luca had genuinely hoped to make some actual friends, but spent it all alone in the back of the cafeteria after trying -- and failing -- to start conversations that went further than small talk, not being approached by any of his colleagues, completely cast off from talks of " _ where did your family went for summer vacation?",  _ all the while missing hang out invites so he could use every spare moment to catch up with the classes and subjects he didn't have back home, and he's  _ fuming _ now, because how dare he?

How dare Nathan imply that it was ever a choice?

A blessing in disguise, that's what it was, if it kept Luca away from the likes of Nathan.

Luca wants to ask where Nathan’s getting at, exactly, but he fears that if he opens his mouth, he’ll say things he shouldn’t.

Nathan seems fine with the conversation being one-sided, so he continues.

“And it would be a shame if we didn’t have someone to blame. What would happen, then?” he takes another step closer, and now Luca’s starting to regret positioning himself against a wall, “If the other students saw that this went unpunished? We all try so hard to behave properly, and then suddenly one crazy student wreaks havoc in our property and nothing happens to him? How fair is that?”

Right. Because Nathan and his friends are behaving very properly right now.

“You wouldn’t want that. You’re clever, D’Angelo, you know better than them. I know you’ll do the right thing.”

They’re only inches apart now. Nathan isn’t much taller, but tall enough to look down at Luca from this distance.

Nathan smiles for the first time since they entered the bathroom, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Talk to them.”

It’s very clearly not a question.

Luca lets his eyes roam quickly through the other boys, now closer too, and with a plummeting stomach realizes that there’s only one answer he can give him.

Luca nods.

“Great. See you in the next meeting.”

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


Luca’s hungry, running late, and very much  _ not in the mood, _ so when Nathan leaves the bathroom with his friends, he doesn’t wait more than two seconds to swing the door open and leave, too.

He bumps head first into another student. They both groan with the contact, fumbling awkwardly to step away from each other.

He looks up to see a familiar mop of fiery curls.

“Oh.”

Something inside Luca churns and rolls around in the pit of his stomach when he isn’t greeted by Vicent with a smile. Which doesn’t make sense, because they’re not even friends. It’s just odd because the boy is always smiling, that’s all.

Vicent looks to Nathan and his friends, a few meters ahead, with their backs to both of them. Vicent probably saw them getting out of the bathroom.

He looks back at Luca.

And looks back at the boys again.

And back at Luca.

And then to the bathroom door he was probably about to enter.

_ He noticed. He definetely noticed, fuck. _

“...you have to know what that looked like, right?”

_ What. _

“What.”

Vicent hesitates.

“I mean.”

“What?!” Luca catches on, incredulous.

The redhead bursts out laughing, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Luca holds back a smile and gives his shoulder a small punch.

“Really, Bonnet? Really? Real mature of you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Vicent’s saying through laughter, pausing to catch his breath. “I mean-- you just--”

"I know."

"--looks like you all were--"

"I get it."

And now he’s  _ cackling _ , loud and pitchy, bending over himself as the students that are leaving the cafeteria walk through them with concerned looks. Luca looks around, a little embarrassed by the display.

“Calm down, Jesus.”

“Dude that was perfect timing. What are the odds?!”

“Yeah, ha ha,” Luca nods, looking down at his hands and cleaning his throat, “super crazy.”

Vicent stops laughing and Luca almost winces at how bad his attempt at "nonchalance" was.

“...it was a coincidence, right?”

“Hm? Yeah, yeah, totally.”

“Oh my God.”

“Bonnet--”

At least Vicent’s whispering now, albeit with an edge of hysteria to it, but a whisper nonetheless, “Oh my God?! Were you guys really--”

“No, shut up!” Luca mimics his tone, looking around to check if anyone’s close enough to hear, “Of course not!”

“I’m not judging, just to be clear!” Vicent holds his hands up in surrender, and Luca rolls his eyes at the drama.

“Well, you should be. It’s Nathan!” he makes a face, scrunching his nose in disgust. That seems to be enough for Vicent to shrug and finally shoot Luca a proper, sunny smile.

“You have a point.”

Luca nods, changing the weight on his feet.

It’s nice to see Vicent, but the timing couldn’t have been worse; the initial euphoria’s gone now, and he’s left remembering the interaction with Nathan and the consequences of that.

_ “Talk to them.” _

He knows it wasn’t Rebecca or Daveed. He does. It couldn’t have been. And if it were, he’d never--

“What happened, then?”

Luca snaps his head up, seeing Vicent who stood there instead of heading in the bathroom like he originally planned to.

“What do you mean?”

“In the bathroom. What was going on?”

“Nothing,” he answers, too quickly, and gets a raised eyebrow in return.

“You’re a bad liar.”

Luca doesn’t respond, because if he’s honest, he doesn’t know how. Vicent’s right; again.

“Listen, just wait here. I just need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back and we can talk about it, ‘cause that was ‘sus as fuck and there’s no way I’m letting you walk away from this,” he sounds frantic, dodging Luca to enter the bathroom and shooting him a last look before vanishing behind the door.

Luca bites his lips and glances at the cafeteria.

He’s not sure what “talking” to Vicent about it would entail. Not sure if he wants to know.

He looks again to the cafeteria, spotting Rebecca, sitting with her band colleagues. He’s also not sure if he wants to talk to her about it. Not sure if he wants to talk at all.

He can always eat after classes, anyways.

Grabbing his backpack closer, so he has something to hold onto, Luca turns into his heels and leaves.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


“Hey, pss.”

Luca looks over his shoulder while the teacher has her back to the class, writing on the whiteboard. Daveed’s poking him gently on the back.

“What?” he whispers, looking back ahead quickly so as not to be suspicious.

“I didn’t see you at the cafeteria.”

Luca’s glad that they’re not facing each other and he can scrunch his nose all he wants at the confrontation.

“Yeah, went straight to the library. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Luca thinks that’s the end of it, but Daveed pokes him hesitantly again after a few seconds.

“...yeah?”

“I got you a hash brown.”

At that, Luca turns around, startled.

It comes out a little breathy, surprised, “Really?”

Daveed’s smiling, and he nods, excited, “Yeah.”

Luca shoots him a smile of his own before turning back to the whiteboard.

“Thanks, man.”

“I’ll give it to you after class.”

“Sure. Thanks again.”

Daveed pats his back one last time before both of them go back to copying the contents of the board, and Luca has to make a conscious effort to hide his smile for the rest of the class.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


It’s evening and Luca just got out of the shower (where he admittedly spent a few minutes more just staring at the white tiles and replaying Nathan’s words over and over and over again in his mind) to find Daveed sprawled over his bed, playing a loud game on his cellphone. He looks up from the device and puts it down, giving Luca his full attention.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he responds, heading towards his closet.

“Why was Vicent Bonnet asking me about you today?”

There's a loud clang as Luca drops the deodorant he was currently holding.

He fumbles awkwardly to catch it, holding tight to the towel at his waist, resisting the urge to pull it up and cover himself entirely with it. He's not sure if it would make him feel less exposed, though.

It’s impossible that Daveed didn’t notice how stiff Luca's movements got after that, however nonchalant he'd tried to appear.

Luca clears his throat, searching frantically the drawers for his pajamas.

“Huh. Weird. I don’t know,” he tries to keep up the act, “Very weird.”

He can feel Daveed’s gaze burning the back of his neck.

“He didn’t actually ask for you, you know. We were just talking and he mentioned a certain encounter,” Daveed’s tone is suggestive, and Luca can hear a smile in his voice.

“Sure,” oh shit, “I mean-- what? Encounter? What encounter?”

Real smooth.

“The one about a scrawny kid he met at detention who looked very distressed after coming out of the bathroom with Nathan and his Backstreet Boys,” Daveed continues while Luca struggles to put his shirt on, “a kid that he knows it’s here on a scholarship, and volunteered at detention, hates Nathan, and didn’t go to lunch today.”

Luca sighs, turning around fully dressed and defeated.

Daveed’s smile falters a bit, probably because Luca looks as bad as he feels.

“Come on, Luca,” his voice is soft in a way that Daveed never is, and Luca’s honestly kinda creeped out about it, “What happened?”

Luca knows he should be happy for having someone who cares about him like this. Yet, he doesn’t know exactly what to do with it; outside his family, he never had any great connections or friendships, and he was always the youngest in the house. No brothers, or sisters, or cousins.

He used to think he was an introvert, that he didn’t need this kind of stuff.

He looks down at Daveed’s supportive face, ready to listen. It brings a fuzzy warm feeling to his belly, almost as reassuring as acing a test.

(Almost.)

Luca sits down on the bed with a big sigh.

“It’s really nothing much. Nathan was just being a dick and it left me in a bad mood, but I’m alright.”

“Vicent said he wanted to talk to you and you ran away,” Daveed says, skeptically.

Luca rolls his eyes with a smile, “I didn’t run away.”

“You broke Vicent’s heart,” Daveed pouts with a whiny voice, poking Luca. He chuckles back, shaking his head.

“I’m sure he was fine, Daveed.”

“Yeah, well. I’m still worried, though. Did they like… get violent or something?”

“No, no,” he said, reassuring, “he just wanted to talk.”

“Got it. Did he want to invite you to his slumber party? Were you gonna braid each other's hair and gossip about all the dreamy boys?.”

Luca lies down beside him, throwing an arm over his own face, exasperated.

“He thinks I did it.” he murmurs.

“What?”

“Nathan,” Luca rubs his hands over his face and keeps them there, feeling a little too exposed, “He thinks I am the one who ruined the newspaper.”

He expects to be met with a gasp and incredulous exclamations. Instead, he’s met with silence.

Luca takes his hands off his face to look at Daveed.

“Daveed?”

“Uh-oh.”

Luca gets up on his elbows, arching one eyebrow at the boy.

Could it be…?

“Daveed, was it  _ you _ ?!”

“No!”

Luca gets up, pacing around the room. What now? Of course, he should've seen that coming, this is just up Daveed’s alley. He’s never liked Nathan, he hangs around some rich trouble-seeking playboys -- which apparently includes Vicent, of all people. And now that he knows, he has to rattle him to Nathan, because if he finds out that Luca knew and didn’t say a word, who knows what’s gonna happen and--

“Wait, what?”

“It wasn’t me, I swear!”

Oh. Okay then.

In the middle of the chaos, Luca’s phone vibrates with a message. He ignores it, focusing on his roommate instead.

“Why did you ‘uh-oh’, then?”

Daveed hesitates. “Because I might know who did it.”

_ Shit. _

“Who?”

The cell phone vibrates again, and Daveed shoots it a glance. A very guilty, nervous glance. Luca follows his gaze, squinting his eyes suspiciously.

He looks at Daveed and maintains eye contact with him while walking slowly towards the smartphone. Daveed swallows tightly when it buzzes again with another notification.

There’s three new text messages from an unknown number:

  
  


_ unknown: so, daveed gave me ur number _

_ u guys are roommates????? omg they were roommates _

_ anyways, u left without sayin goodbye that was pretty rude _

  
  


Daveed smiles shakily, and Luca gapes at him in shock.

"What?" he tries, shrugging cautiously, "He asked for your number."

The phone buzzes again.

_ Damnit. _


End file.
